When You Ask Why
by PurpleYin
Summary: Set in what would be season 5, dealing with the events of the would be season 4 cliffhangover
1. Prologue

Prologue  
  
2002 Early October, Never Never Land  
  
  
  
A drop of water rolled slowly down the window top and gathered speed as it continued its journey to the bottom, running into other rivers and pulling together what bits it could. It finally reached the end of pane and ran from this to the next adventure. Never stopped.  
  
Life didn't seem like a cycle, there were those who said but no. This had ended; they had closed it up and shut her off. She was lucky she was still here, that she too had not been debunked. Laughing to herself bitterly she reflected, what else would they put her on now? No, she was the guarantee, she HAD to stay. This whole lot was just pretence. The house, the salary and research funds for what she wished. They were all bribes for keeping quiet and as long as she accepted she would be alive and well and with her very own 24hr covert security team peering over every aspect of her life.  
  
Taking a deep breath she stood up, pushing against the desk for support. It had to be done. She should be leaving in just two weeks and noone else would bother. Who else was there left? They had all been happily reassigned and paid off. Left to their own devices too, or so they would think. She knew as well as anyone that they would not get away unscathed. Ramsey had known, he would though. Ramsey would be the kind of guy who'd organise it, if he'd been in charge and had taken the last free time they had to tell her this over a beer. That had been one of the only times she'd drank a beer voluntarily. Getting to the bar she'd suddenly seen why it was such an appealing thing to do, sometimes you need something that was slow to act. Compared to vodka beer was like water, mind you Ramsey had no trouble getting drunk on it and she felt herself wanting to give in to the mellow brown squishy nectar..  
  
She'd allowed herself to get pissed that night, as Nate had rambled on about what to expect and what she could do. He told her the ins and outs of the operation. Not being entirely sure mind you because each person would coordinate these things slightly differently, but she had her guidelines. She should have asked him why he was telling her this, why she should trust him that he was not a mole, why she should not think this a trap. A healthy bout of paranoia that no doubt he'd have been proud of. She'd always thought the best of everyone. She could be cynical very easily but inside deep down she knew it would figure out ok. There had been just a few times when that had not been true. When waiting had taken that privilege away from her heart, when she had been devoid of hope, had broken.  
  
Today she was close, merely holding the pieces together for what she must do. 


	2. Chapter 1: The Choice of A Lifetime

Chapter 1

2002 Early October, Never Never Land

The corridors where deserted and she stalked round preparing herself incase of the chance meeting with another human being. They'd virtually emptied the compound.

Hadn't taken too long, they were precise and organised. Right now they'd be burning the records, only the most important would be preserved. After all they might want it in the future. They thought there would be one without this place. Did even one of those people responsible know quite how many times the sphere had launched off with the task in mind to save them? How many times had he saved countless millions of lives? And they repaid him with this.

A month ago it had happened. You may have guessed by now, they shut operation backstep down. Debunked and filed away.

Talmadge dutifully did what he had to. The meeting was held. Hooter sat with wild eyes and mouth open at the news, Isaac was astounded but not surprised. He'd shared his thoughts with me many times about how long it would last, we'd thought though that by now the project had proved its worth. We could not say but it may also have proved its threat.

My first reaction had been to turn to Parker; he had fear in his eyes. Parker despite his appearance of being casual and dim-witted in cases was more than smart enough to see without backstep his future would be uncertain. He probably imagined it as a needle balanced precariously on a point at that moment. Little did we know his future had already been taken care of.

Talmadge had his orders, he gave me mine. While the others had sat discussing what had brought about this event, I sat arms leaned against desk with head covered in an offices only rooms away, deciding whether I should be the one to bring about the next.

I remerged to the conference room accompanied by two black suited goons. They weren't any I recognised as Ramsey's lot, indeed Ramsey looked surprised at their entrance and I couldn't bring myself to face looking up to any other person in the room except Talmadge.

As he read out the brief on the situation I tried to quell my panic and doubts. First they closed it down and now what they were doing to parker. And so quick, not even a day or hours to give him time to pack or say goodbye.

At last I heard my order.

"Dr. Vukavitch"

He stood arms crossed, legs apart in a stance of strength. I had not been listening but knew well enough he was refusing.

"Dr. Vukavitch"

Talmadge didn't agree any more than I, but he carried out his orders patriotically. These had come from the highest command possible. Top-level authorization. It was big.

"Dr. Vukavitch"

I had my orders, I had to do this.

I had a choice.

Lifted my face up to meet Talmadge's eyes before moving my view of sight over to Frank's.

I laid the syringe on the table carefully.

And adjusted my standing.

What I remember of the series of events that came next is jumbled and erratic. It was simply the most shocking thing that has happened in my life. My trust in the government was at that point blown away completely. It bowled over my little Russian mind that Ramsey, Talmadge and Isaac could have any faith in their country after that. Must not say things like that. I think that was one of the top 10 things I mustn't say on Ramsey's list. So I'll stop mumbling right away, can't afford to be that careless when so much is at stake.

In my reminisces I lose myself, the memories are all I have. There may be no hope that I can see him alive again. I was told, by Nate once again, that the only time they'd probably let me see parker would be at either his funeral or mine. With the regrettable circumstance that only one would be able to see the other.

He's been in there a month. 29 days actually. Over a lunar month but not calendar yet. Will it matter to him?

He's been sitting in that cell waiting for his rescue for twenty-nine days. Praying that they would change their minds no doubt, praying for a miracle that they'd let him out.

He'd been back in the real world 4 years mind you. Four years in the world of NSA, not entirely authentic but more of a life than Hansen Island has to offer.

I opened the door to a musty stale smell; it had been a month I suppose. I turned on the lamp and the light bringing out the dust in the air as it drifted down to the floor and on various objects. I propped open the box as it all settled around the room. On the bookshelf there were many books piled high. On top and in any gaps. I picked up the nearest – The time machine by H. G. Wells – and put it on the table, pondering which I should take with me.

What were his favourites?

I wouldn't know, we never got into specifics. Don't even know his favourite colour let alone book. I didn't take the time to, didn't make an effort. I'd thought we'd have all the time in the world to argue about this and that, that one day it might matter.

It matters now. Simply because I can't know this now, it is denied.

The bed was made up, neatly set, a product of a military training never forgotten.

I looked down to the bedside cabinet, the knob was coming off but I managed to pry it ajar. Inside was a box, wooden and carved. The carvings were intricate but not fussy and the box was of a substantial weight for its size.6 by 12 inches. The contents I didn't care to look at, it wasn't my place and now wasn't the time for any unpleasant tales to resurface. Just more things I would not understand, pictures that in themselves were good but I didn't want to be reminded of him. Already being in his room that sounded absurd. I hadn't seen him for a month; he was starting to fade in my mind, something that frightened me innately. But he wouldn't look the same in the picture as he did right now and I couldn't look at something that emanated the past, as if that would be all he was from this moment.

Reaching for a rough book of stapled papers I swallowed hard eager to believe I'd see him soon. The booklet was in his handwriting, it scrawled across the page firmly at a slant. The letters curled into beautiful words and found it was a sort of diary. A mix of poetry and scratched drawings in both pen and pencil. Some frantic and others slow and beautifully pictured, in Russian and English he writes of love and friends, of those he's found, of his life.

Я ЛПЮБЛПЮ TЫ

That's the end of chapter one. Hope I did it well so far, I promise my evil ways with them, the only good fanfic inevitably puts the characters through hell and I shall be what David Kemper was to Farscape. You may not know (or care) about who he is and what he did but I'm warning that my chapters will be heavy and full of twists and turns so intricate. 


	3. Chapter 2: Playing The Cards

Chapter 2

2002 October 18, Never Never Land

The table was hard and cold, made from some metal substitute for wood. The rapping of her nails on it sounded sharp and precise, no life to the sound, it was empty and instant. Did not go past the present and lasted only a few moments. She coiled her nails inward to a fist and tapped heavily before one by one unfurling each finger and using them like instruments to be played with. The constant tap and rap she made appeared to unnerve the constable sitting opposite. She smiled to her self mentally; it was a trick that had served her well. The one treasure of childhood. No one dared questioned her when she sat and did this, it made a clear statement to any in attendance, do not mess with me 'my friend'. She'd entered the cell over an hour ago. She'd sat there for just over an hour, silently. The agent had started asking her of her involvement with her colleagues, of what she knew of them now. No one name was mentioned or asked about. He was playing the game, break her, make her, turn the info out.

So transparent, anyone would think she was one more suspect to be dealt with. She could laugh, did they not know she'd worked for the NSA for over 4 years, had seen Ramsey take part in this kind of charade every damn week, not to mention she had a good amount of training in psychology. Of course she could just smile anyway, see what amused him. How long til he gives up, what strategy next? Will it be blackmail, double bluff, guilt trip, bombardment, deprivation, good cop/bad cop..

He shifted in his seat, crossed his leg over right for the tenth time this hour. 10 more minutes, she'd break. Even one question and she'd be his, the door opened a millimetre still meant it was open.

Nah. who was he kidding, she wouldn't break. She was a disciplined scientist, the perfect government employee, a psychologist for hell's sake, she knew all the tricks twice as well as him.

He only had one card left. Sheer Shock.

He knew.

She didn't.

It would only work if the rumours intelligence had gathered were true, and he doubted she was a completely emotionless bitch, this fitted the bill exactly..now to business.

He hovered above for a few minutes, stretched and brought his hand over his mouth and yawned carefree. She watched his every move knowing he'd turned to plan B, possibly it was plan C, his last straw.

He pushed his clasped hand out and clicked his fingers effortlessly before sitting back down and smiling in standard government issue posture, check listing too, a malicious edge to his glower that said he'd got her.

"You are here in reference to the late captain F B. Parker and the circumstances previous to the incident which happened on October 17 at 04:00 hours at Hansen Island government medical institute." He took on a harsh bearing of indifference while spewing the statement, he didn't care, why should he. He knew it's worth; the human in question however had none in this. if at all. This only served his purpose, she would crack like a kitten as he offered his condolences and pried details out of her, all in the faith "of bringing the event to justice".

She stammered ".the ..the.Late.Mr.Parker....?" her head shook unsteadily a fraction to each side as she spoke.

One more victim of the scum, no doubt, he thought. Mind you she was no better than our captain dearest.he shouldn't be fooled by pretty features..she was a defector.do it once. could always be done again.

He breathed in sighing at how easy his job could be sometimes, it was all about how you approached each obstacle, he'd got his angle alright.

"The late captain Frank Bartholomew Parker, deceased as of October 17 04:15 hours. Found in his cell, slashed throat, suicide. used his uncut nails. That circumstance was unforeseen and regrettably the medics could not save him, perhaps if they'd been notified earlier but the five minutes between each check-up of the cell can make a substantial amount of difference as we can bear witness to."

Tears ran down her face, she stared blankly across the table, a sour anger emanating from her despite the plain face she put up.

"He is dead"

"Yes" he answered expectantly. Doubts began to form, maybe it wasn't the right swing on it. Damned disciplined bitch, holding out as long as he was. She shouldn't be playing the game, he was the predator not the prey. NO, she shouldn't, COULDN'T destroy his position, she only needed a few more guided pushes to the edge.

"Then it is no use to question me"

"On the contrary, we have reason to believe information was smuggled out previous to his death, with captain parker as the source. We need to find the recipient" He moved over, arms straight laced onto the desk and holding his position above her, over her statuesquely.

He would win

She raised her head in an instant and grinned laughing manically in his face, glimmering sheen of the water on her face still there.

"You have reason to believe information was smuggled out of a TOP security facility, given by a man the government has categorically labelled mentally unstable and barely coherent. And that subsequently he committed suicide, over a matter of what...exactly? Honour? FEAR?.CAPTAIN PARKER was already in the most demeaning place he could ever be, already in the most terrifying situation possible, he was also one of the most loyal people that has ever been in the service of this government. For 15 YEARS he gave all to this country, He put his life on the line every single day and near sacrificed his sanity and now..now.you talk of treason and suicide and try to tie this in with me, with one of our former colleagues. There is NO premise of which your reasoning is based on which isn't embarrassingly false and an insult to the fine employees of our government, who as of late are few and far between. Now, Mr. Kline, do not attempt to "console" me or question me further for you will meet a cold, hard IMPENETRIBLE brick wall of apathy. I DO NOT CARE about your superficial mission to solve this so called case. You have no idea of the meaning of this."

He smirked off her insult, she didn't matter. She was clueless, living in the past and on memories of what a man used to be, no knowledge of reality was in her vocabulary.

"It's Director Kline. and I do recall it seems rather strange shall we say, that you refer to our glorious government as "this government", that's mighty fine thin ice you're walking on there for a commie defector. Good seeing to you Miss Vukavitch."

He gestured to the men in black to take her away. Well, well he'd hit a nerve. A bit of fine tuning and he could find out everything, but she wasn't worth it, nothing she knew could play into this. Better off making it up, the truth certainly wasn't going to air here. He might even be able to pin her in somehow but then someone else might be better for that role. Someone who was more of a threat.

He shuffled reports on the desk briefly before opening up one and scanning the contents.ah.here we are.Doctor Andrew Owsley, a far superior contender. 5.4.3.2.1. score. 


	4. Chapter 3: Memories Hurt

Chapter 3  
  
2002 October 18, Never Never Land  
  
The guards stamped down the hall, handling her roughly, arms linked at her elbows dragging her body with them. She resisted slightly to their annoyance, she despised being treated like this, a piece of meat and a brain like a hard drive as far as they were concerned. All of it at the disposal of the government. Their property. Ready to be disposed of. They swung around the corner and threw her into her room. Unknowingly she'd directed them to his room, and it took a while to realise this and a single moment later for it to sink in. Dead?? For all the death-defying missions he'd been on he'd always come back home, the hero, forever the unsung hero. Hansen Island too, seemed better right now. better off insane than dead. Specially when you're not insane. But had he known that? A month in there where everyone's convinced you are your medical record, could he have thought he was. could he not stand the memories. Because escaping the institute had been like taking the memories away, burying them and for him returning was like being buried once more with them. Did he really? Suicide...? No, no, wasn't him, he wouldn't, he couldn't do that to us. Forsake the world. We all need him.he wouldn't. She buried he head in her body, screwed up into a bundle lying by the bedside, crying.  
  
Had they lied? Maybe it was a ruse. It had after all appeared to be his last resort in the interrogation. It might be, wasn't so far fetched as it sounded. She screamed to herself inside her mind. //Arghhhhh//. She sobbed out loud, no one would hear her in here. Guards didn't give a damn anyhow. Would they tell her what the truth was? Would it even cross their minds to tell her that it was true or wasn't? The idea hurt though. That he was there, dead or just in fear for his life. Uncut nails...? What was that about? Not an easy or accidental death, no, a timed and precise one. Just five minutes to it. Of course he had been trained in ways to kill and quite possibly might know how he could do such a thing to himself, but still of all the ways to go it was so so stupid despite the ingeniousness of it.  
  
She just wanted to curl up for days, to cry for the millions who could die because of the idiocy of men like director kline, even more though for the man who's death meant the end of the world - if only for her. 


	5. Chapter 4: Overkill

Chapter 4  
  
2002 October 19, Never Never Land  
  
Hooter sat slouched in the chair, he peered meekly up at the glass. They were watching him. as they had been for the last 4 hours. he wasn't sure what this was meant to achieve, he'd told them all he could. But that had been one of the problems. He knew the moment he'd said so that it had been the wrong way to say it. With a guy like Kline it wasn't just a misphrasing, it was a Freudian slip.  
  
* Kline looked him over, eyes sweeping in disgust. "I can tell that, but what I'm concerned about is that you haven't told us all you know. Because you'd better not be withholding information. may I remind you this is an official government investigation and that such an offense is very serious" His words stumbled out "Yeah, that was what I meant, I've told you all I know. Just got it wrong" "Andrew, I'm gonna call you that, ok? People don't get things like that wrong." He got up and whispered instructions to guards at the far end of the room before turning round to add on a final triumphant note "I'm watching you Owsley" *  
  
They shouldn't let the Klines of the world have any form of authority, he got off on it far too much to use it rationally. He was quite sure such a system worked when their guilty but he went onto overkill on every innocent person too. He should have put it better, then Kline wouldn't have anything to catch him on, whether imaginary or not.  
  
Not so far away, in another room, Olga paced from one end to another. For the past day the complex had been a buzz of activity, planes flying in, more and more military assignments and government employees coming. It was nearly back up to the old numbers from a few months ago when it was operational. It wasn't however this sudden influx of strangers that bothered her, it was Kline. His all encompassing case, and his malicious eagerness to solve it with all strings tied. She didn't like to think about where he'd be tying them to. They'd given up on questioning her for now, Kline had got annoyed and given it to another one of the investigation team who was every bit as incompetent as his mentor. And he too had given up in frustration, she hoped she hadn't given him too much stress to handle and yet still enough to think about but it was only due to her kind nature that she stopped at this. She should have wished all the evils of the world on them but she couldn't wish anymore than a bad month or two on them. They were after all in a sense just pawns in the whole of it, Kline albeit a particularly nasty one who didn't fully realize his part. She'd wondered what he'd say if she told him how much out of control he was, how he was just the hoax damage control sent to make-up a plausible cover-up with his mock logical conclusions. Things more made of a delusion based on the lies he'd been told, on his facetious attitude, on anything but the truth he supposedly sought. The shadowy men would make sure of that, those behind it all had set it up so perfectly as to include every detail and account for it. Kline wouldn't find the truth but neither would anyone else find fault with Kline's conclusion. They'd sealed the fate of all involved. She couldn't stop that. If only she knew what that fate was meant to be.  
  
The door to the conference room slid open, the sound of the black suited men shuffling someone in could be heard before looking to it. Who ever it was wasn't happy, was shoving back, arguing, protesting vehemently. She was so deep in thought though, staring out and through the concrete scenery that she didn't hear anymore than a muffled account of events. It wasn't until she felt a hand on her shoulder gently pulling it around that she became aware of a familiar presence. She turned to the figure of Ramsey. Rather more ragged than she'd seen him, as if someone had created hassle for him at an inappropriate moment instead of before when hassle had been the number one task of his job. And who ever'd been hassling him was probably ready to explode with indignation by now. "Olga, you ok?" she met his concerned eyes. It didn't take long though for Ramsey to start vent his anger in the form of his unique whinging. "I can't believe they're doing this, they don't have any right. They closed us down and now they expect us to open up to all their whims. Cater for all their bloody needs." She smiled as he made a face at the idea of their autocracy. He continued moaning "tell them everything they want to know" and with that he raced around to the glass pane to motion fingers to a passing guard. When he was fully satisfied he'd done all he could to show defiance of his restriction, Ramsey turned back to the more than usually silent woman. "Olga, what's this about, what's going on? Who's done what? I can figure it ain't you by the fact you're here." She pursed her lips and stood still, hand folded sloppily only keeping them occupied. "They were asking about everyone, trying not to give it away but they should have known I'd figure it out. They asked about frank, alot more than anyone else and he's the only one they haven't pulled out to this shit hole masquerade of an investigation. What did he do now?" Moving over to lean against the wall, he continued quietly questioning her. She knew it was unfair to Ramsey, he'd done nothing wrong. He didn't have much now and he shouldn't have to lose it but it wasn't her choice, she has no power, things could only run their course. He'd know soon. "Did frank try to escape?" he stopped to wait for an answer. When he got none his face contorted to a look of surprise "He succeed?"  
  
"What did you say about him Ramsey?" she pulled the chair forward, she needed the support, whatever he'd say the conversation wasn't going to be nice. But for all that was at stake she had to deal with it. "Told the bastard the usual, what he wanted to hear. That Parker was the most stubborn guy I've ever met, never followed orders, had no sense of respect. After that I let steam about this whole operation. I'll tell you, he won't be sleeping soundly tonight. I'm not a man to tread lightly on peoples egos, especially not piss idiots like 'Director Kline'." Olga stared into the dark glass table, almost hypnotized by her own wish to be anywhere but here. Anywhere but this time. Sensing something wrong Ramsey carried on, "Ofcourse its all true but you and I both know that Frank Parker's a damn good soldier and a fine man, even if he is a maniac and brick stubborn. Mind you I won't ever admit that to his face" As he pointed his finger on the last point she regretted that she had to do it, that she had to burst another bubble, that he wasn't up to his old trouble but instead that what they were in was bigger than them and worse, impersonal and on an automated series of events. "You couldn't do that if you wanted to" She'd said it, and the words had felt cold and cursed. The sentiment of them damned, made her want to break up inside at the reminder of the wholly regrettable fact of his death. "What?" Better yet, she had to withstand all that Ramsey would inevitably ask of her. And once more the doubts would seep upon her consciousness, leaving deeper scars to her heart.  
  
"He's dead." "How?" She could almost read the thought circling his mind, how can it be, how can it be that Frank Parker is dead. Although this would only be because she too had been shocked by this, noone that knew him could not be so. That he was dead after all the times wasn't acceptable in reality, as if he couldn't die in the minds of his friends. Like this life was parallel, and out of synch with what was certain. But tomorrow would confirm it all, as she would lift up the coffin to see the sweet face of her dear friend who's life had ended unjustifiably. " They're saying it was suicide" Something she was consigned to acknowledge as the official statement should the press get the opportunity to ask of her. The whole situation had become a remote media circus, a show she had not been privy to witness or have the opportunity to exploit. Suicide would remain the statement whoever examined the records, however much she campaigned against, she wasn't on the right side to change that and that was the one thing that was pure circumstance.  
  
"Are you sure it wasn't?"  
  
Hadn't been prepared for that. She'd counted on his faith in her, on her reasoning. "How can you say that?" It was more than just an insult to him, it was a slash at her throat, one more cut that would bleed, one more tiny reason to cry that one more person believed the lies.  
  
"I know you usually have good judgement but I think you're more than a little clouded by emotions right now" His mind raced over the two things at once. Firstly that of the death of Frank Parker, of the loss of the man who'd saved millions of lives and secondly of the circumstances, of a friends innocent determination to believe what was the best to believe, the possibility too that she was right.  
  
"Forgive me if I get slightly emotional but if I am so then it is only for the fact that it is a lie that makes it worse, I can't stand by and let them slander a good man, a good friend of mine." Olga got up, the motions of her body matched her mind, she rushed in an angry volatility. Looking ever nearer to both tears and murder.  
  
"He's a friend of mine too, don't forget and I think you're being naive. You and Parker, good friends, That's not how I'd put it. You're seeing what you want to see here." He struggled to wrestle his mouth before he said anything he'd further regret. He settled for sitting opposite Olga. The space of the table leaving them in total silence. Each wondering who was right, what was what,. why it was. 


	6. Chapter 5: The Past is But Dust, a tear ...

Chapter 5  
  
2002 October 21, Overhill Memorial Park  
  
The sun shone brightly over the view, such a beautiful scene for the morbid activities that ensued here. If not for the black shrouded crowds scattered around two or three times a day it would seem to be a place of dreams. Maybe it was, the fallen ones, the rest for every broken life that was no more. The rest, dreams left dreams, like noone could expect any more of them. One figure was sheathed in her own personal misery. The loss not only of her friend but also of a confidante. a person who knew. and of the lack of knowledge, understanding, that must be that this had become. /The bastards. The idiot bastards. What have they done? /  
  
And she stands high, infront Mouth pauses to clear her head, waiting for silence To say what must be said  
  
~  
  
From ashes to ashes, from dust to dust From god and back to him, a new life, he started without us. And the man makes his speech of all the gladness, to belittle our sadness As to say we mean nothing He's far gone now and we are left standing dry by the by, by ourselves  
  
The ropes stretched under the strain of the hardwood coffin, the priest uttering the futile prayers whilst they lowered it gently to the ground. It helped to think of this as it, not him, he wasn't in there, he was in the past, soundly in the past. Somewhere that wasn't as out of reach as it seemed, certainly more attainable than here.  
  
A leaf, singular, drifted down oddly for the season. Still green and fresh, barely wilted.and it falls to earthly soil. Like from the heavens, a starry speckled treetop above. The leaf, it drops from above, from high to low it changes the day.  
  
~~~  
  
A mass of footsteps proceeded on the path, figures of death dressed in black left the fresh grave. A small group was left huddled almost around one side, one person.  
  
His hand gently placed on her shoulder told her he felt it, one more person, a comfort to know that she wasn't the only one and a torture too that there was that bit more pain to the world. Hadn't there been enough the last few days, and weeks. They'd been through enough their lives, all the things they'd seen and none had wanted to bear witness to this day. She'd think couldn't it be, just one reality, that he's alive in millions of others, having the perfect life. And then her morbid mind would turn to know that so too could he have died in billions more, suffered twice as much. All she had was the brief kindness of her old colleagues, Isaac standing by her, the sweet grandfatherly type. She knew he was there for her. And by her stood his dearest friend, mourning the loss of a brother. Donovan quietly slipped away to join his parents, not able to stand this a moment longer than for a thought. Ramsey loitered near them, silent and grimacing. A friend to his enemy, every little trick that he'd pulled on him disappeared infront of today, infront of Frank Parker's resting-place. Finally he accepted him as the fateful friend, who occasionally got the better of him.  
  
"I only wish Andrew was here to pay his respects" Isaac frowned, thinking of the fake democracy suddenly imposed on them. Supposedly fair, supposedly all part of the system, just doing the job. Upholding the law, - whilst barely obeying it. Her eyes coldened, crossing her mind a thought was spoken in grief, not checking for the approval. "I only wish he didn't have to be here to pay his respects" She took a sharp breath of air, realizing she should think before speaking, but it was difficult. Nothing was easy to do now, nothing straightforward, as if even her own body held up the conspiracy she knew was true. "I'm sorry, I should be a little more sensitive. It's hard for all of us. I didn't mean to provoke you, in your state I know it's easy to say things you could regret" he said. As he looked up to her face as she looked away, swore he could see tears forming in her eyes, yet she blinked them away every second, controlling something atleast. Still not letting go of her emotions, when would she learn, that to release was just as powerful.  
  
Belief, all a matter of belief. Could she believe in heaven as much as she could believe in the results of a blood test, as much as she could believe in time travel. Or was it faith, faith in god, in there being something up there. Faith in herself, like how she couldn't let go off her heart, incase she'd shatter completely. That she'd let go and she'd be fine, no, that she could have faith in. only in herself, that she could somehow change things could she believe. Not knowing how just knowing she had to, that if it was possible then there was a way. And she held close the belief that with or without the divine or fate, she'd find it, the way, her way. But only if she could control herself. Only if she could get through today, through the day without emitting a single tear. She'd feel like nothing could win against it, them, if she didn't hold up her head and smile once in anger for what was going on and what she would do when it was tomorrow. Tomorrow she'd start, she'd sort it out. Injustice was not a thing she could suffer to stand. And as she'd once heard the truth was anonymous, lies were from people. If evidence of this could turn up accidentally on the desk of a top journalists or twenty's desk then people would see the truth. That was the plan, but the way, the when, the how. She had to have faith that she'd find out whatever there was to find out. All this went through Olga's mind as she stood a silent vigil at the grave, the minutes passed, the three of them keeping watch as the rest began to leave entirely. One other person stepped up to the group, nodded to them and took his place. Talmadge looked solemnly over the freshly made mound, the brand new stone; letters carved in. just a name and a date. The government had paid, but it didn't say Captain Frank Bartholomew Parker, an honored soldier, a wonderful father, a good friend, a true hero, the saviour of the world. It said only Frank B. Parker 1969-2002. No died in service, no mention of who he was, what he did, what he was like. They made him just another name and another blank tablet with a grave. He felt so enraged, astounded that he wanted to get a chisel and carve out the truth on it. They stood the minutes, more time passing. Taking time to remember the man who saved them all, who they couldn't save anymore.  
  
~~~  
  
He raced up to the wall, staring through the glass. He knew it was there, they were watching him. What the hell were they waiting for? A confession. He knew Kline wanted that. He'd hounded him for days, just jumping at the chance to interrogate a likely suspect. Then they'd given him some shot. He couldn't be sure what it was, the logical answer was a truth shot but he had a nagging feeling Kline wasn't a guy to go by the book and he sure wanted results. Maybe his job depended on it but Kline was bound to get a kick out of torturing him, mentally if nothing else. It was getting to him, he swore he could feel the pull of the drug, feel it coursing through his veins, pumping through body, converging on his mind. Time seemed to slow down; thoughts were sluggish, yet his body moved fast. Everything made no sense, his mind betraying his body. He stumbled towards the screen, trying to holds himself up. Breath ragged, it steamed on the mirror.  
  
Behind it the agent smiled and reached for his cellphone. "Director Kline?" "Yes, its Smith. The drug has taken effect." " Ok, I'll prep him." "Bi"  
  
On the other side, hooter held himself up; his hand supporting his incapacitated body sprawled over the hard tiled floor. He looked up briefly, coincidentally looking right into the eyes of Smith, had he known his name. He only knew someone was there enjoying this victory. 


	7. Chapter 6: The Truth Awaits

Chapter 6  
  
2002 October 21, Nevada, The Blue Swan Bar  
  
The noise of plates clanking and friendly chatter crowded the room. In one small corner there were a few select friends sitting at the dark brown table holding their respective drinks. Olga sipped her vodka and picked at her food. Somehow being here felt disrespectful. Having drinks like old times, one face missing. Every now and then one of them would quietly slip their hand to there glass and take a swig. Noone said anything, what was there to say. He was dead. Nothing else mattered to her. And noone else had anything to add.  
  
An event disrupted the atmosphere in the bar, over the other side there was a hush. From the niche the scene was hidden, a large screen cornered it off from the world. But they could feel the chill of the customers, everyone suddenly set into a curios fear. Heavy footsteps crossed the floor, getting closer each second. All looked to the partition, 5 men in black suits passed it and gathered together in a formation to block them off. The lead man started to talk, thick and strong, his voice echoed slightly in the silence that surrounded them. "Isaac Mentnor, please come with us. You are under arrest for conspiracy to murder and for treason." The other men stepped forward to detain Mentnor, quickly handcuffing him. They had no resistance as they read his rights, he simply smiled awkwardly at them and followed them out. The lead man still stood infront of them. His stance professional and hard. He tipped his feet before speaking "If you would all like to come with me, you are detained on government business til further notice" He waited. "It is not optional"  
  
Olga watched the TV, CZN was on, round the clock news. The news as the news happened. But she knew this shouldn't be happening. The newsreader rallied off the headline. Two top government scientists guilty of treason. A conspiracy to murder a former government serviceman. Their accomplice. Their ally in the plot of espionage. Bubble bubble, boil and trouble, gunpowder, treason and plot. So far all they'd said was that they'd been smuggling out classified details to any willing to pay, using an unstable ex-navy seal who they later murder to cover up their activities. Making it look like suicide. And this.only discovered when one of the conspirators cracked under interrogation, confessed it to all. Andrew Hooter, Isaac Mentnor and the unfortunate Frank B Parker. They'd said it, spread it, now it was all over the country. The biggest story since Watergate. The press were having a field day. One injustice compounded upon, more lies to cover it up. To cover their butts. Lies that sounded realistic, that were what the ears wanted to hear, that couldn't be false unless you knew the truth. Press hounds where having a field day. They his ex-wifes's house covered, with revelations that maybe her new husband was attached to it all. And ofcourse that would be investigated, played along with.  
  
She turned her head away from the screen, unable to tolerate any more of the pictures in purveyed. A bitten lip suggested Olga had her mind in motion. Ticking over the events, all orchestrated no doubt. But by who? Shading government officials, backdoor organisations.. a mastermind nemesis for the answer was about all that was worth. There was no proof, not except against this, against her instinct, their words. There was one way to get to the bottom of this, the source of it. Too risky, for now she'd just keep trying til time ran out. She'd practically made her mind up, deciding however to sleep on it. Wishing that a night would change it all, like a dream come true she'd awaken to the good fair world  
  
The rain could be heard lashing on the window as she rose from her slumber, the patter and tinkle of the droplets sliding smooth on the pane, running the familiar rivers of infinite paths. Every chance unique, played once and just that once, to change it all for its life. Sleepily she got up and dressed hoping that some progress had been made by now, some semblance of right emerging in reality.  
  
The canteen was crowded. But instead of the usual bustling crew near the kitchens, there emerged a hustle around on of the TV's mounted to the wall. As she got closer she saw it was the latest news bulletin from CZN. The pretty blonde was rushing through the weather nervously. And the blacksuits were uncharacteristically excited, there faces full of hushed smiles and glances of anticipation. She looked at the screen waiting for it. The report of it. The moment which decided. If they knew then they'd know right and it would be over soon. She tried to think of prayer to utter, even a silly superstitious chant. Anything for luck. Crossing her fingers she took a deep breath in. She'd never have known that that couldn't be enough. Between the cheers of the crowd, the slaps of palms doing high fives, there was an unheard clutter of a tray hitting the ground. The sound reverberating, the echo of the metal trampled on by the joy of all but one. The blond man agog as he read the news out. "A verdict of guilty has been reached on the current espionage case. The two scientist's case has been judged without trial due to massive amounts of evidence counting against their innocent pleas and they have been given the death sentence for what the president described as "the most dishonourable act he has ever known". The two scientists in question, Dr Isaac Mentnor and Dr Andrew Owsley where part of a plot to smuggle out highly classified information to foreign terrorists using a mentally unstable ex-military captain. Captain Francis Bartholomew Parker was housed in a state mental institute due to a traumatic experience whilst serving in Somalia. The severity of this case was that the two doctors misused their privileges to get access to Captain Parker and took advantage of an honourable man who wasn't in any state to refuse their manipulations. The government is still unaware of exactly how much and what information the doctors managed to extract and transfer to the foreign parties. Nor is it known who they were in allegiance with. Now over to our correspondant in washington for a full report...... The pictures faded into oblivion, and the voices drowned on in the mind. There seemed to be a echo forever of the metal, the harsh sound as it hit the floor, a reflection of how it felt. The frequency not stopping, carrying on getting paler and paler but still there. Weak but true. 


	8. Important Authors Note

Authors Note  
  
Hi  
  
Right now I'm not sure if there is even anyone still reading this. So if you are or do then can you PLEASE give feedback regularly. I need to know if its ok, if its worth continuing. Otherwise I can never tell if I'm even writing it for anyone else but me. So please review, tell me what you think of it, what's your favourite chapter, any complaints, mistakes, any suggestions. Please. Bi purpleyin 


	9. A NEW Authors note

A/N: i am going to continue with this fic, have unfortunately been preoccupied. also not too sure where the next chapter is going to go. but it will be up by easter atleast.  
also if you review and leave your email, i will email you myself when i post each new chapter up, just ask. so please please review. i need to get some ideas, from what you like about it and where its going.  
  
purpleyin 


	10. Chapter 7: The Price is Set

Chapter 7  
  
2002 October 23, Nevada, Never Never Land  
  
The harsh sound of the drilling alarm pounded her eardrums. Stuffing the equipment into the large sports bag, she panicked, an effect of the adrenaline in her veins. Fight or flight. Trying to do both. Slinking out the door, she couldn't think. Where was it next? She scuttled down the corridor turning sharply left at the sound of footsteps. She tried to calm her breathing, as she felt them getting closer.  
  
"Did you hear that? I think they're around here." "What direction?" she heard the shuffling of the guard's footsteps as he checked out the corridors "I dunno, we've hardly been here a week, I haven't memorised the base yet." "There's too many directions. Lets call for backup, she's somewhere here, but we need more men if we have any hope of finding her. Remember what the colonel said, she knows everything about this place"  
  
The guards' voices were being drowned out by the beat of her own heart. She had one option. Singular. Might be easy, might be hard. Might get caught. And it all depended on one thing. Luckily that's where the adrenaline came in handy.  
  
A quick glance round the corner and then she sprinted. Pushing every ounce of energy to steady her legs. Trading a little of her life just to get where was necessary. She HAD to get there. There was no time for mistakes. There was no time.  
  
She yanked at the door that was her destination. Locked. A high left kick. Wham. The door cracked slightly from her weight against it. Once more. No effect. She cried out and pounded at the door with her fists desperately. A final realisation. She changed the direction of her hits, the weak cracking of the door replaced by the smash and tinkle of the broken glass. Fumbling to get her set of keys, she scrambled at them trying weakly to read them through her watering eyes. Which one was the right one? She reached round with her arm to test each one, afraid of dropping the bunch from the difficulty of the task and because of the pain of the shards that dug into her forearm, their abrasive edges slicing up at the fragile skin.  
  
There was a click as the key fitted the lock and the door sprung open. Extracting her torn arm from around the window of the door, she somehow found the strength to run once more. Now the alarm was a louder shriller sound. It had changed when the breaking down of the door had alerted them to her presence. There were also various engineers and worriedly rushing around without a clue as to what was happening. The geeks up in the observation room seemed to scrambling around at the panels, ignorantly unaware of the little changes she'd made to the system, which meant no one could stop what she was about to do. The guards were coming, getting closer. She knew they were about to enter the room, she sped up and clambered in the end up the steps into the sphere, closing it just in time, so they couldn't do a thing  
  
The whole thing was rigged. She quickly stripped down and got into the jumpsuit from the bag. Strapped in and pressed engage. The last few seconds thoughts and visions were of their confused faces, witnessing what they had never seen in their life. Of intense pain, weightlessness, an eternity. Knowing what this would be worth. 


	11. Chapter 8: When The Lambs Lead The Wolf

Chapter 8  
  
2002 October 16, Location Unknown  
  
She grasped her head in pure agony. Red tears ran down from her face, sweat and blood mixing under the strain of what she had done.  
  
She warily reached out to the bag, where she'd stashed al the gear she needed. Reading the display she noted it was exactly seven days backstepped. One week exactly as planned to set up her components to the scheme. It sounded all too rather devious. But she reminded herself that she was only playing at their game. If the agents of the secret government departments felt happy enough imprisoning and scapegoating and killing innocent men, then all that she did was child's entertainment in comparison.  
  
She extracted her weakened body from the wreckage and hoped, no, prayed that this would work.  
  
She felt the bobbliness of the back of her neck, where the tender skin was perforated. Filled with the dark black ink. Her fingers could trace the numbers though she knew them better than anyone should. His numbers. She'd borrowed them as part of her ploy.  
  
04:15 was when he'd died. Now it was midday. She had as little as sixteen hours to get to him, to change his fate. She'd never considered it that before, in all the time they'd dealt with time travel. Fate had never been her term; she was a scientist after all. Fate was not an object. It was cause and effect. What she had to do was work out the cause and exterminate the effect of what had orchestrated Frank Parkers doom. She set a small timer to countdown, placing it discreetly at her side as if to be a pager.  
  
The sleek cars drew up infront of her. The grey suits and soldiers appearing affront. They waved theirs guns at her, a certain fear in their eyes. The suits, glanced ay her, looking her up and down, judging what threat she was.  
  
She gave the front man a sickly sweet smile and announced is a sultry Russian accent "You were looking for me, I believe." She held out the dogtag with computer chip in, swinging it like a treat for a pet. Waiting it seemed for him to beg for explanation.  
  
"Agent smith" he said with a curt nod in her direction. He was even arrogant enough not to believe he had to back his claim up. There was no flashing of a badge to prove it. Or was that simply that they didn't want to admit who they worked for.  
  
"Chrononaut Vukavitch" she replied brusquely. If he had no manners she too would not bother wasting hers on him. He was the enemy here. Only by association but it that was enough for him to act as an object to this.  
  
He stood off and reached out for the metal chain she held. She withdrew it sharply. "I want to make sure you are who you say you are. I want assurances that I will be treated suitably." She eyed him at that, ignoring the voice in her head that pointed out if they knew what she was doing then suitable handling would be more like lead shoes than a comfortable hotel room or the cooperation she expected.  
  
He turned away to her, flipping out the bottom of his cell phone and dialling up what she assumed was his superior.  
  
~~~  
  
At the base she found herself confronted with angry confused faces of the men who'd presumed shutting down the sphere's program was the best thing. They guessed now it wasn't. With the exception of what they missed, which was that she was putting on a show for them. They'd removed the data chip from her possession and were applying logarithms to it to crack it. She'd feigned ignorance at knowing a password, saying that it was such an emergency there that she'd not been able to get the answer. She'd managed to fake tearfully a reply that they were all dead in the time she'd come from and no one had questioned the fact. It had after all happened before in the history of backstepping. She thought of the virus they'd dealt with when Parker had first started. And it hadn't been too difficult to tear up at the misappropriated thought of her friend's injustices instead of the lie she had created.  
  
But now she stood surrounded by the gathering officials in charge. She prayed that they'd swallow the bunch of lies she intended to feed to them. it sounded more plausible than some of the real things that had indeed happened here previously. The only one detail that lacked credibility was her questionable request to visit Hansen Island. It was supped up in the plot of why she had backstepped but she feared that Kline might spot her true intentions.  
  
What was her story though? She went over it in her head. Military fanatics, over-patriotic paranoids who'd systematically infiltrated nearly every out of the way government institutions simultaneously. Drawn even to Never Never Land by the recent activities due to the shutting down and withdrawal of their project. The facts had been easy to draw up, hard to remember though as she was depending on herself alone to provide them.  
  
The data chip you see had nothing of such importance on it. If they did crack it despite the extreme improbability facing them, then she'd be done for. As the chip was illegitimate, full of junk because there was no real disaster. She could have tried without it but an empty chip was pointless and she needed it for the recognition it provided. Yet the decrypted chip would be so incriminating alone that she aspired that it stayed that way past the fourteen hours she had left.  
  
~~~  
  
Kline had faced her through out the meeting, watching incredulously at what she said. But not at her, he failed to know her like he had where she was from. All he was surprised at was what was supposed to have happened. He believed it, she saw, with undue terror on his puffed up face. He almost choked when she'd mentioned that this base had been one of the targets taken, vandalised and held by the rebels. And he'd done something strange when the meeting was over. He'd caught her arm passing out the door and had smiled at her, a look of embarrassed gratitude uttered by his expression.  
  
Right now she sat at her personal laptop, one she had made sure could not be monitored ages ago with the instruction of Ramsey. She scrambled to write the email fast enough. Clicked the attach button eager to finish before Smith and Gresham came back to escort her to the point. Lastly she pressed enter and sighed in relief that this part of the plan had gone purely and solely how she'd dreamed it would.  
  
The door opened and she slightly guiltily looked up. She wiped off the look at the sight of the two twinsetted mediators of the directors. Smith opened to the door for her as she gathered up her belongings. Whilst Gresham proffered a almost welcoming arm as her shepherd.  
  
She smiled at the blonde haired man, glad that they met under less harsh conditions as she herself remembered. And she smiled more so knowing they led her to the plane, to the salvation of America and the deliverance of the lives of three blameless men.  
  
~~ 


	12. Chapter 9: The Worst Kind of Poison

Chapter 9  
  
2002 October 16, Hansen Island  
  
The door slid open and she stepped out into the bright midday sun onto the walkway down to expansive concrete of the airfield.  
  
Once more her two courteous guards helped her, Smith carrying her briefcase and Gresham covering the front protectively as they made their way inside the austere facility.  
  
She slipped back slightly as her company greeted the security at the doors, flashing of badges and documents ensued as she impatiently waited behind nervous of the next stage.  
  
Afraid too, of the possibility of failure. To come so far, and to have succeed at it, to lose it all now would shake her faith in the goodness left in the world. If there was a god she felt he should allow this one act to take place. For the suffering that had occurred already, in that other time, had been bad enough to show her the darker side of what she knew as life. She didn't need any more lessons to prove that the pretentious and self-righteous pricks like Kline and co existed. Everything had revealed it bluntly enough over the past few months.  
  
She snapped out of her daydream as Smith guided her forward, his hand in the small of her back. She hesitated, at the strangeness of his action but carried on trying not to shy away. Acting normal was putting a strain on her emotion, mainly because acting normal is incredibly difficult at the best of times- no one can be sure what constitutes it - and when you're about to do what she intended to do its even worse a predicament.  
  
She paused at the security desk. Emptying her pockets into a tray as all four government employees looked on. She fiddled around deliberately looking unsure of whether that was everything. Finally she expressed a sign of relief and resigned to being certain she'd put it all - every little piece - into the inconspicuous black plastic tray.  
  
After the quick nod of approval from the security official she made her way slowly up the hall to the gates where the prison began. As she heard the tinkling of Gresham and Smith subjected to the same check as she had been, she fiddled with the hem of her jacket idly loosening the thread as she took small steps towards the next guard.  
  
She walked so slowly, Gresham and smith managed to catch up with her, only to wait on one side of the gate as the Hansen island guard escorted her into the maze of whitewashed walls and gut wrenching screams of madness.  
  
~  
  
Led up several hundreds of metres of corridor, the guard finally silently stopped and drew the hatch back, shouting grouchily into the room "Oi! You! Got a suit to see you, Parker. Behave nicely for her won't ya."  
  
The guard huffed at opening the heavy door and looked at her accusingly as she passed into the agonisingly plain cell.  
  
She saw him. With his eyes stabbing into her figure as he realised she'd come to him. Had he been waiting? She wondered, as he storkily got up, seemingly amazed at her appearance. Had he given up on the idea? On her?  
  
"Olga?" his voice scratched her name out into the silence, rough and raw as it seemed, sounding like it was either under or overused.  
  
She examined his face, a beard now on it and his hair ruffled and longer than before. But not as long as it should have been, indicating to her it had been badly cut sometime in the last month.  
  
He caught her looking at his hair and his face broke into a devilish grin as he joked about it. "Like the haircut? I did it myself."  
  
Her face pained at seeing him like this. Suddenly in good spirits but knowing that life had been hell for him before.  
  
He sobered up when she didn't smile at his small amusement. His face immediately mirrored hers in a concern. "Why are you here"  
  
She approached him, wary of the camera in the corner, putting his body in the way of its view. Only then did she whisper emphatically her words.  
  
"To save you."  
  
His face flashed with confusion as she neared him. Perhaps he wondered why she had to say it like that, why she wore a saddened look. The reason why was so simple. An open apology for what she had to do. One she couldn't voice aloud was only said by eyes alone and by how she felt at that moment.  
  
Her hand grasped at the final stitching and the packet dropped into her curled hand as she drew towards him still. She glanced around, fully away from the camera and from frank's look. Quickly she tore the corner and took out the contents, hiding them the one place that was left to hide them from both observers and in the one place where they needed to be for this to work.  
  
A few seconds after she rushed around and grasped frank parkers body harshly. She wasn't sure what went through his head as she held onto to him, meeting her lips to his tightly. It was for sure that he wouldn't understand, not now. He had no way of knowing what it meant and why it happened but as she opened her lips and forced her tongue into his mouth, she saw his eyes widen in a strangled sort of joy. In an unexplained happiness that what he'd always pressured her for had become reality. That was why she knew she could be forgiven. With that she moved the tablets over in his possession, withdrawing afterwards and covering over his mouth and nose. He struggled slightly at the unexpectedness of what she had done. His breath taken away by her sudden kiss, he had no choice but to swallow down the pills.  
  
When she was sure he'd had them she walked backwards, giving him space. None of it, except the kiss would be on tape - all actions obscured into that one event.  
  
But this would be what they'd come for. Running down the racing corridors, footsteps echoing along with the worried calls ahead. Voices louder and more worried when they entered. Seeing what she saw right now in the minute after. He'd not had time to ask any questions before the convulsions. He clutched at his chest, straining for breath, clasping at air in front of him for help as she merely stood on by.  
  
The guards rushing in around her. Raising the alarm for a doctor. Panic in their tones, not for concern but for their jobs. She stood at the side whilst they tried to raise his body, shaking at him, willing him to be alive as she would if she could. They ignored signs, wispy last breaths drawn as they'd first seen him like that and the subsiding beat of his pulse.  
  
She stood motionless as he, apart from that one difference. She shed breath slowly in an effort to stay calm as she recited the new truth.  
  
"Gentlemen. The prisoner is dead"  
  
~ 


	13. Chapter 10:A New Way Of Seeing

Previously..  
  
She stood motionless as he, apart from that one difference. She shed breath slowly in an effort to stay calm as she recited the new truth.  
  
"Gentlemen. The prisoner is dead"  
  
..  
  
Chapter 10  
  
2002 October 16, Hansen Island  
  
They guards shook him, his body rolling around as a rag doll. Rigor mortis yet to set in, and she began on the second part of her plan. Yet the guards didn't want to believe that vital truth, they clutched at the ignorant belief he wasn't dead.  
  
One of them shouted out through the door, "We need a doctor in here"  
  
She turned sharply and straight on her heels, the black scratching in a quarter circle of the white floor of the cell. "You have one right here" her voice demanded.  
  
The guard twisted around to her slowly and glared at her, "Why didn't you do something? You were here all the time!"  
  
She equalled his stare, replying in a patronising manner. "Because." she started, looking over to the body, "There was nothing anyone could do. Not I, not you."  
  
She held her head up high rather haughtily taunting his stupidity. And she knew very definitely that everyone in the room was as dense as she was implying, they'd have to be infact.  
  
She carried on when his softened but confused features goaded her into explaining. "He had a cardiac arrest, and with all security here you'd never get to him in time rattling a trolley down the corridor, unlocking all the gates.and I notice you don't have medical pack anywhere around. Without the proper equipment there was little chance of reviving him by C.P.R. alone."  
  
She turned away faking emotionalism, hoping he'd just accept her opinion as a doctor without question.  
  
Another voice met her ears. "Are you certain that's how he died?"  
  
She nodded vehemently as she sobbed into a handkerchief she held to her mouth.  
  
The answer hit her joyously and she cried out of sheer happiness as he said "In that case we wont need an autopsy, just got to ship him out of here, no offence. You knew him didn't you?"  
  
"Yes, he was a colleague at the military base I worked at. until." she faded of sounding evermore distant.  
  
"You mean until he went psycho, right?" one of the guards retorted to the whole room, grinning at the comment rather viciously.  
  
She span round spitting out her answer against her own will, "Yes, until he needed help." Emphasising the last word just to make it sound less harsh to her ears because she knew frank hadn't gone 'mental' this last time. He had just been a victim of his past and of an elaborate conspiracy and its preposterous cover-up, but that wasn't the kind of thing to say that would help her plan run smoothly.  
  
Smith walked in, seeing the scene and backup to tell the accompanying attendants they weren't needed. She looked at the cart, which held a defibrillator as it rattled past the door on its way back to where it was kept. She hated to think about what would happen if anyone here really had a heart attack.  
  
Smith glanced around, entering and moving over to her. "Ma'am? Will you be alright?"  
  
Her bright eyes looked up to his, watering ever so as she replied, "Not right now, no." He looked down on her sympathetically and she thought for a moment that he might like her perhaps. That was something she could use. She chided herself for being so vulgar but the circumstances might call for such behaviour.  
  
The administrator walked in. Having heard, obviously from Gresham, who followed him. He looked accusingly to the guard hanging over the body unsurely.  
  
"Hart" the administrator barked.  
  
"Sir, the patient is deceased. Our doctor here." he pointed towards Olga ".is sure it was a heart attack. What are we going to do with him? Parker doesn't have any real family."  
  
The administrator sighed; obviously frustrated that something like this had happened again. She bet a reasonable number of deaths happened here and none of them, whatever the cause, were ever going to good for his reputation or career furtherment.  
  
"Find out where he was stationed last. Pack him off to there, let them sort it out."  
  
Hart simply nodded and the rest of them were hushed out of the room.  
  
~  
  
She sat on the plane waiting and fidgeted in her plastic seat anxiously.  
  
The were waiting for parkers body to be loaded into the cargo bay since the plane was already going back to where they wanted him.  
  
She heard a few clunks and noises in the back and concluded that perhaps they'd finally laden the plane with his still body.  
  
Smith emerged into the middle of the plane where she sat and patted her shoulder as he passed, "We'll be taking off in a few minutes Olga"  
  
She watched him walk up to the cockpit, which he shared with Gresham and wondered how he knew her first name, she'd never told him. He must have found out on his own accord and by his wishes to. She was pretty sure in that case that he would fit nicely for what she planned next, because Gresham whilst being nice to her was not someone that it would work on so well. Gresham was vastly more professional in approach to her.  
  
She slid back in the seat before buckling up her seatbelt for the flight.  
  
~  
  
After the shaking takeoff she had sat bored stiff, in her place for roughly twenty minutes.  
  
Then Smith pulled back the curtain, popping his head in to check on her. Apparently he didn't like what he saw too much and came out presumably to cheer her up. He sat down besides her and she crossed her legs in his directly discretely, as he chatted reassuringly to her. He made idle conversation, mostly at her. She nodded in the right places; to be sure he'd carry on. If she let him know that she wasn't devastated by the events of the day then it was possible he'd go away, back to his own seat where he ought to have been assisting Gresham with flying the plane.  
  
She figured she must have been atleast half convincing or the flying so easy because he stayed talking to her for quite awhile, before he slipped his arm around her shoulders. He'd made his move. And she felt it time to make hers soon.  
  
Smith relaxed next to her, getting something out of his pocket. He flicked it open and closed as he sat next to her. She stared at it curiously. It was a weapon of some sort. Roughly resembling a knife, yet the end at the top was nothing like she knew. It curved off into a smooth sharp round no bigger than a fingernail and actually looking increasingly like one to her. She stared back up to Smith, who noticed her questioning look.  
  
"You like? It was a gift, you could say, from my boss. Kline, you met him I believe."  
  
She looked back to the strange knife again. He mistook this as a note for further curiosity.  
  
"I guess you're wondering why, right? I've worked with him for along time now, me and Gresham that is." Smith's voice flecked up, coming into life with an intensity to this particular discussion as he simultaneously looked upon the 'gift'.  
  
"Kline thought it might be useful."  
  
He turned towards her smiling broadly. ".but as it turns out it hasn't been, and I don't think it will anytime soon."  
  
In that second the information clicked in accordance with the delight she saw in him as he said it.  
  
He'd done it.  
  
Or not done, since she was talking of things that hadn't come true here and now. But she was 99% sure, seeing Smiths' joy over what she believed he meant. He wouldn't have said it if he'd known she could see his hidden implication in the sentence. The joy was over Frank Parkers 'untimely death'. Something that she felt he'd have had a hand in if she hadn't been there first.  
  
Now she knew she'd feel no guilt over what she meant to do.  
  
She turned away towards the window, cradling her arms around each other and the armrest, all the while getting another part of the plan out of the jacket hem that rided up from around the chair back its whole rested on.  
  
A quarter. She wished it enough to work. All she needed was a few hours. Long enough to escape, for them not to be able to trace.  
  
Slipping it in her mouth she tried the same trick as she had on parker. Not apologising this time. She put all her hate for the man into the kiss and pushing it roughly into his mouth.  
  
On his face she saw him wonder what it was for a second as he backed away from her, she used it to surprise him. a strong graceful hand over his lower head and he had no choice but to gulp it down in his lust for air. He lurched towards her. Which was the point at which she was grateful that it was as fast acting as it was. He dropped to his knees halfway between her and where he'd been.  
  
Gresham had obviously heard the scene and called out. She made her way over to the curtain, groggy with the small amount of the drug she had absorbed whilst it had been in her mouth, ready to strike out at his back through it. She intended to knock him cold but his hand grasped hers midway before even reaching through the red sheet. The grip was, however, loose at best with the fabric in the way and she slipped out of it as he ripped the curtain down with his other hand.  
  
Gresham's furious face glowered at her. He stood up from his seat and faced her.  
  
She set a look of determination on her face but secretly feared the confrontation. She hadn't been willing to take him on directly, her training hadn't been quite as comprehensive as say Parker's. She wasn't a soldier like Parker; parker could beat her hands down. She could see Gresham too, in both nature and knowledge superseded her physically.  
  
He ran at her blindly and she took it all on one action. And in a way it worked.  
  
Her shoe collided with his front, heel to face and he screamed out not having expected anything of the sort - his advance only having made the fierce impact worse.  
  
Blood poured down to the floor as he staggered back, clutching at his eye. He growled almost, in pain. Spinning round in a circle towards the cockpit seat of his, blood spilling out steadily from the combined gash he'd gotten from the sharp edge of her weapon, on his eye and the surrounding skin above and below it.  
  
And all in one second he slipped up, arms flailing from his bloody face for aid. Grabbing out as he fell into the cockpit.  
  
She rushed towards him slightly, still fearful for his safety. Her aim wasn't to kill, just immobilise so she could get away.  
  
But his head hit sharply on the second seat and he fell to floor between them, his head at an odd angle.  
  
After that she stood shocked for a second or two before realising there was something else she should have feared more.  
  
The plane alerted her to it as it dropped into a plummet.  
  
She ran half way up to the cockpit, careful not to meet the same fate as Gresham by the blood on the bottom, yet in a hurry to reach the last place his hand had rested - one of the controls. The corresponding dial, altitude, she could feel was dropping dramatically - the plane radically out of control and heading towards the depths of the forest they were flying over.  
  
~ 


End file.
